Page 49 of Touchdown, Tennessee

But instead, all he did was step forward and gently place his hand at the front of my neck.

No pressure, again.

No strength.

A gentle hand, guiding me downward, knowing that I would follow.

I swallowed, setting down my shoulder bag on the floor and slipping off my shoes. Suddenly the air between us felt like it was thick, as if he’d flipped the script on me and was completely in control again.

I breathed, enjoying the gentle weight of his palm against my skin.

The threat of more.

I paused for a moment, looking him up and down.

“I’m not going to say please,” he told me, his voice low and velvety. My cock was aching for him now.

And I wanted it too badly to deny him.

I dropped to my hands and knees on the ground, and his hand slipped away. He had a plush, light blue rug that covered most of the hardwood floor, and I settled onto it in front of him, then looked up.

The raw desire in his eyes almost made me feel dizzy.

“I’m starting to like you too much,” he murmured, reaching a hand down to stroke the side of my face. “What I meant was get on your knees on thebed. But I fucking love that you got down onto the floor for me, Peach.”

“You’re just trying to change the conversation,” I said, my voice coming out weirdly low, like it was painfully obvious how much he was affecting me.

“Wrong,” he said. “We can talk about anything.”

“Liar.”

I could feel my heart pounding hard in my chest. I looked straight ahead at the blue-painted wall in front of me, acutely aware that I was on the goddamn ground for him.

“I need to write a good article about the football team, yes,” he said. “But that’s not why you make my cock hard.”

He leaned over and ran his fingertips along the middle of my back, a little bit of praise. Every nerve ending in my body was primed for his touch, like every part of me was sayingthank youthe moment his hand landed on any part of me.

I was so screwed.

On my knees in front of him, feeling all thankful just because he touched my back?

My cock was hard as a rock now, aching between my legs, begging for contact.

I didn’t know what my deal was with Gray Gilman, but I had never done anything so goddamn desperate in my life.

I shifted my knees on the rug, marveling at the sequence of events that had led me to where I was right now.

Gray moved his hand lower, skating down to the small of my back before plunging under the waistband of my shorts. He grabbed my ass cheek firmly, giving it a tight squeeze.

“God, this ass is impressive,” he murmured.

“I worked hard for it,” I said.

He gave it one final squeeze and then removed his hand, moving to crouch down in front of me instead.

I looked up at him, my heart beating like a drum in my chest.

There was something in his eyes. Usually he looked like a hunter, out on the field shrewdly looking for prey.